


How to Heal

by jujus_writing_corner



Series: Whumptober 2019 [24]
Category: Real Person Fiction, Youtube RPF
Genre: Burns, Fever, Gen, Hiding Medical Issues, Hurt/Comfort, Infection, Past Abuse, Sick Character, Whumptober 2019
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-24
Updated: 2019-10-24
Packaged: 2021-01-02 10:33:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,091
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21160235
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jujus_writing_corner/pseuds/jujus_writing_corner
Summary: Eric burns himself baking cookies and decides not to tell anyone. He doesn't want to be a bother, he doesn't want to be scolded and yelled at. But his burn refuses to get better.Whumptober Day 24: Secret Injury





	How to Heal

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, I'm finally writing about Eric! :D It only took me nearly a whole year... ;w;
> 
> But for real, I love this boy, and you know what that means! It means s u f f e r i n g >:D
> 
> Enjoy!

“Ow!!”

Eric Derekson drops the platter of cookies with a clatter. Apparently the pot holder he’d grabbed to protect his hand didn’t cover it completely, and the red mark spanning the meat of his thumb and the underside of his pointer finger is proof of that.

“Owww…” he whimpers. He’s burned himself cooking before, but this is the worst he’s managed to do in a while. He should go to Dr. Iplier and get it treated.

But he’s too nervous.

He knows that Dr. Iplier will bandage him and chide him to be more careful. Eric knows he doesn’t mean anything by it, and he’ll admit to being a klutz, so the warning isn’t exactly unneeded. But it still makes his cheeks go pink with shame, and a part of him still expects to be scolded the same way he was by his father.

_“What’d you do this time, you clumsy idiot? Don’t start crying at me! It’s just a burn, you can deal with it. You know where the first aid kit is. I don’t suppose dinner is salvageable, huh? Of course not. No, no, you deal with your stupid little burn and I’ll restart dinner. Worthless little…”_

No, he doesn’t need to bother Dr. Iplier with this.

He takes the rest of the cookies out of the oven before they burn and puts his hand under running water from the sink while they cool. When other egos come in, attracted by the scent of fresh cookies, Eric smiles and blushes and sheepishly accepts their words of praise and thanks – and hides his hand in his pocket.

~~~

The next morning, Eric wakes to find that his burn has not only swelled overnight, but blistered as well: Three big ones, one over the muscle in his thumb, one where his thumb bends, and one on the pad of his pointer finger. Not to mention a half-dozen little ones throughout the still-red burn site, some of which have already popped. The stinging pain is immense but not wholly unfamiliar. This isn’t the first time Eric has blistered from a burn. It’s not that bad, and it’s certainly not bad enough to bother anyone with.

It’d be better, though, if Eric could get the supplies to treat it himself. He doesn’t have any money; most of the egos don’t. He knows the clinic has what he needs, but he’d definitely get caught if he tried taking supplies, and then Dr. Iplier would insist on fixing him and fussing over him – or he’d get mad at Eric for trying to steal from him.

_“Eric Derekson, you put that back! You’re not getting any band-aids! I know the first aid kit ran out, and I don’t care. Save up a little and buy them yourself later. I’m not buying you anything today and you sure as hell aren’t gonna steal it. You want to get in trouble? You want to get arrested and taken away? Maybe they’d arrest me for letting my kid be a thief, is that what you want? You want them to take me away, you want you and your brothers to be alone? Quit blubbering, I’m not going anywhere. Just put the band-aids back and make it snappy.”_

Eric does his best to go about his day and keep his injury secret. He ends up spending most of the day alone out of nerves. Try as he might to protect his hand, by the end of the day every blister has burst and the skin is sore, weeping, and redder and more swollen than it was in the morning. He grits his teeth and runs it under water again before going to bed. He leaves his hand on top of his covers at first, but then thinks better of it and tucks it underneath, just in case someone comes in.

~~~

He wakes up feverish, the first symptom that _isn’t_ typical.

It’s a bad sign, Eric thinks, especially since his burn continues to hurt him. It hasn’t changed, if anything it’s gotten worse. But he can’t afford to make anyone suspicious, so he gets out of bed and gets dressed anyway. He wears a long-sleeved t-shirt, both to hide his burned hand and to hopefully prevent chills from his fever. But he must look as sick as he feels, because Bim notices right away.

“Eric, you okay?” he asks. “You don’t look good.”

“I-I don’t?” Eric squeaks.

“Your face is red,” Bim says, “And you’re sweating.” He puts a hand to Eric’s forehead before he can say anything. “Yeah, you’re definitely warm. Should I get Dr. Iplier?”

“No!” Eric exclaims, probably too quickly, judging by the look Bim gives him. “I-It’s not that bad, I promise.”

“Alright then,” Bim relents, “But you should at least go back to bed. I’ll bring you something to eat and you can try to sleep this off, okay?”

“O-Okay,” Eric agrees. It’s better than what his father did when he was sick.

_“It’s just a fever, you’re fine. Come on, we have work to do, and you’re burning daylight! You can nap during your lunch break if you really have to, but you’re not skipping a shift on my watch.”_

No, Bim takes him back to his room and returns later with food as promised. Eric manages to keep his hand hidden the whole time by not eating until Bim leaves, pretending he isn’t hungry yet but promising he’ll eat eventually. He feels a little bad being dishonest, but he does eat in the end, so he supposes it’s okay.

What’s not okay is his burn, which has taken on a purplish tint in some spots, and now aches so bad that Eric can barely bend his thumb or pointer finger. It still oozes, cracking and leaking whenever Eric manages to move it even a little. He has the sinking feeling that the fever is caused by his burn, but he figures it can’t get worse from here. Hopefully his fever will break while he sleeps and his burn will finally start to heal.

Despite his fever making him tired, it takes him a long time to ignore the pain of his burn long enough to fall asleep.

~~~

The next morning, his hand is on fire.

He peeks at it under the covers and can see, even in the darkness, white lines in the deepest cracks, which themselves look deeper than they did yesterday. He shudders and looks away, poking his head back out of the covers. His fever has gotten worse, too, and his whole body feels hot and heavy and tired like he didn’t sleep at all the night before. He knows he ought to get up, go to Bim and tell him his fever is all better now and thank him again for his help yesterday, but he can’t move. He’s too exhausted.

_“Get up already, you lazy piece of shit! I don’t care if you’re sick! I work when I’m sick; that’s what adults do! You’re not a baby anymore, I’m not going to coddle you. Get up and get dressed. I’m leaving in twenty minutes, with or without you, so either buck up or arrange your own ride, because I’m not letting you make me late. And rest assured that if you come in even one minute late, you’ll be punished. Make your choice, Eric.”_

Eric whimpers. He can barely even think; it’s too much effort. Time passes without him, and he falls in and out of consciousness, until he comes back to Bim brushing his sweaty bangs out of his eyes and biting his lip with worry.

“You’re so much worse than yesterday,” he murmurs, “How’d this happen?”

Eric lets out an unsure mumble.

“I’m getting Dr. Iplier,” Bim says, and that pulls Eric back to full awareness.

“No!” he protests, “Don’t bother D-Dr. Iplier, please, Mr. Trimmer, I’ll be f-fine!”

“Call me “Bim,” Eric,” Bim says automatically, having said it many times before, “And you’ll be fine once Dr. Iplier takes a look at you.” He pulls his hand away. “Just sit tight, I’ll be right back.”

Bim leaves before Eric can gather the strength to protest again. He dozes off again and wakes to the sound of his bedroom door opening.

“He wasn’t this bad yesterday, just a little feverish,” Bim is saying, “But it just got ten times worse overnight!”

“That’s odd,” Dr. Iplier replies thoughtfully as he follows Bim in. He sits on the edge of Eric’s bed and gives him a soft smile. “Hey, kiddo, you’ve got a fever, huh?”

“Yeah,” Eric whispers, too tired to be louder.

“Let’s see how warm you are, then.” Dr. Iplier takes out a thermometer. “Open.” Eric knows there’s no point in arguing and opens his mouth without complaint.

Some seconds later, Dr. Iplier removes the thermometer from Eric's mouth and reads it, frowning. Eric can’t read it from his angle, but Bim can, and Eric sees his eyes widen.

“Eric, have you been having any other symptoms?” Dr. Iplier asks. “Fevers this bad don’t happen for no reason, there must be a cause.”

Eric closes his eyes.

_“What, are you saying I’m not good enough for you? Are you saying you’d rather have no one than have me?? No, speak up! Spit it out! Stop your blubbering and tell me exactly what you mean before I give you something to cry about!! You didn’t mean anything, huh? Of course you didn’t. You never have anything useful to say. Now get out of my sight, I’m busy.”_

Eric’s already going to be in trouble for letting his sickness get this bad, so he guesses he ought to be honest now.

He moves his burned hand out from under the covers, whimpering at the pain as the raw skin brushes the blanket. Once it’s in view, Dr. Iplier and Bim both gasp. Dr. Iplier gently takes Eric’s hand, avoiding the burn, and turns it over, taking in the injury. In looking at his own hand, Eric can see that redness has spread beyond the original burn site. The skin looks worse than it did under the covers in the dark, and it almost makes Eric sick to look at. But it’s better than looking at Dr. Iplier and Bim’s faces.

“Eric, how long have you had that?” Bim asks, awestruck. “Why didn’t you say anything??”

Eric whimpers again and ducks his head under the blanket, missing the look that Dr. Iplier shoots at Bim.

“Don’t talk to him like that,” he scolds, “That’s probably the reaction he’s afraid of.”

“Oh…oh, Eric, I’m sorry,” Bim murmurs, regret heavy in his tone. “Look at us, buddy, it’s okay.”

Eric peeks out again, teary-eyed. Dr. Iplier strokes his hair with the hand not holding Eric’s. Eric takes a shuddery breath before speaking.

“Burned it,” he says, quiet and weak, “F-From making c-cookies.”

“That was three days ago…” Bim can’t seem to help saying, to no one in particular.

“It’s definitely infected,” Dr. Iplier murmurs, still frowning, “With how bad your fever is, you’re probably right on the cusp of sepsis. We’re taking you to the clinic.”

“I’m s-sorry,” Eric whimpers, “I didn’t w-want to bug you, y-you’re always so b-busy and I’m c-clumsy and–”

“Shh, shhhhh,” Dr. Iplier soothes, petting his hair. “Don’t ever worry about bugging me, okay? This is what I’m here for. I don’t ever want you to be in pain because you’re afraid of asking me for help.”

“S-Sorry,” Eric repeats, beginning to cry in earnest, “I d-didn’t mean t-to cause trouble, I just, I just…” He trails off as he cries harder.

Bim reaches out and takes Eric’s uninjured hand, squeezing it comfortingly and holding it to his chest, tears of his own shining in his eyes. Dr. Iplier keeps stroking Eric’s hair, looking down at him so softly that it makes Eric want to cry even more.

“You don’t have to be scared here,” Dr. Iplier murmurs, “You’re a good kid, Eric, and we care about you.”

_“Ungrateful.”_

_“Stupid.”_

_“Worthless.”_

“Let’s get you the clinic,” Dr. Iplier continues, wiping the tears off Eric’s cheeks. “You’ll probably have to be there for a while, unfortunately, but you’ll heal up fine once we get the infection addressed.”

“And I’ll visit you every day,” Bim adds, squeezing Eric’s good hand, “So I can make sure you’re getting better, and so you don’t have to be alone.”

Eric tears up all over again, but he's no longer quite so sad.

“Okay,” he replies, and for once, his voice doesn’t shake.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm......soft..........Eric bby u have all my uwus
> 
> Hopefully I'll write more of him at some point. Not for Whumptober though, so don't worry XD


End file.
